


Gifts for the Rich

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Birthday Sex, Breakfast in Bed, Dimilix Week (Fire Emblem), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: Dimitri spoils Felix on his birthday.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 188
Collections: 2020 Dimilix Week





	Gifts for the Rich

**Author's Note:**

> Dimilix Week 2020, Day 7, Sunrise (and of course, Felix's birthday.)

Felix woke to lips pressed gentle against his ear, whispering softly. 

“Happy birthday,” Dimitri said, his breath stirring Felix’s hair and, regrettably, his heart, just as easy. It stuttered in his chest, skipping several beats, and to hide the flush that tried to climb into his face Felix scoffed and shook Dimitri away -- and _then_ he shrugged the coverlet up over his head, too, for good measure. 

“Go back to sleep,” he complained, voice muffled through the blankets and his own grogginess. His back went stiff and his jaw creaked open of its own accord, issuing forth a yawn so wide it actually made his eyes water. 

“You don’t mean that,” Dimitri said, and though Felix could clearly hear the laughter in his voice, he wisely let him be beneath the coverlet. “The sun’s nearly crested the horizon, now. Hm. Tell me, Felix, are you feeling well?”

Felix felt the bed move, presumably as Dimitri shifted atop it, and he pulled the blankets tighter around himself in obstinate non-response. Dimitri, of course, laughed at this, long and soft and sweet. Felix’s heart, traitor that it was, stuttered again. He loved to hear Dimitri like this, teasing like he always had when they were children -- and more relaxed than he’d ever been, even back then. 

“I only ask because I know you typically like to be up with the sun, or indeed, well before it,” Dimitri went on, his tone even and thoughtful. “It wouldn’t do for you to be sick on your birthday, Felix. Should I call a physician? A healer? I understand that Mercedes is visiting the capital, again, and so --” 

Felix cut him off with a pained, dramatic groan of protest. Reluctantly, he pulled the coverlet back down. “I’m not sick,” he said, voice flat. “I am _tired._ You know why. And if you want to wish me a happy birthday, I would advise his majesty to examine the reasons very closely.” 

“Ah,” Dimitri said, grinning at him. His one open blue eye practically sparkled with mirth. “Is that so? Let’s see, then.” 

“To _yourself,_ ” Felix added, quickly. 

Too late. “Tired, you say,” Dimitri mused. He brought a hand to his chin and scratched through his morning stubble, making soft little considering sounds. “Now, as I recall, you managed to make it to bed at a decent hour, last night…” 

“Dimitri,” Felix sighed. 

“But of course, that hardly means you went right to sleep, doesn’t it?” Dimitri’s grin had returned in full force, lighting up his face. Felix dragged his hands over his face and into his hair, shaking his head all the while. His eyelids felt heavy, his brain stuffed with wool. He laughed, helplessly.

“We’re getting too old for you to keep me up half the night with your ridiculous appetite,” he scolded. 

“Now, Duke Fraldarius…” Dimitri said, and Felix looked up when he felt his fingers on him again, sliding gently through his hair, over his ear. Dimitri scooted nearer to him, and beneath them, the bed creaked and swayed. “I could say the same to you,” he teased. “Or am I misremembering? I seem to recall you begging me to continue…” 

Felix scoffed again, even as Dimitri slid his hand down one cheek and then beneath his chin, angling his face up toward him for a kiss. He let him take it, let his eyes flutter shut and his lips part, let their tongues meet for a brief, sweet moment. 

“My judgement was compromised,” he informed him, afterward, matter of factly.

Dimitri chuckled, low in his throat. Felix tried and failed not to shiver at the sound. “Begging me never to stop, in fact,” he said, in that same distant, wondering tone. 

“Evidently, you were unable to honor the request,” Felix said, and he could hardly help the way his lips twitched up into a little smirk with the words. Dimitri blinked at him. A little wrinkle dug in between his brows. 

And several things happened so quickly, in such swift succession, it was almost as though they occured all at once.

First, Dimitri took hold of the blankets and sheets, coverlet included, and whisked the entire bulk of it off the bed entirely, leaving Felix to gasp and then shiver, naked atop the bed, defenseless against the chill of the early morning.

Then, before Felix could move or even voice a protest, his king flung himself over him, pinning him to the mattress by the shoulders. Felix felt his head hit the pillows, his hair spilling out over them in a dramatic mess of frays and tangles, and thought -- ah, yes, finally. Dimitri’s body blocked most of the light streaming in through the window, and Felix gazed eagerly up into his face even as he threw his arms about his shoulders. 

And, finally, a series of polite yet firm knocks rattled the door in its frame, freezing the both of them comically in place, half entwined with one another already. Dimitri’s good eye widened with alarm.

Felix tipped his chin back and groaned, furiously. “What did you do?” he hissed. 

“Your Majesty?” A woman’s voice called at the door. “May I come in?” 

“N-No!” Dimitri called, all in a panic. He practically leapt off the bed, leaving Felix sprawled on his back, red-faced and narrow-lipped, gazing up at the curtained canopy. “Just a moment,” Dimitri went on, scrabbling about for his dressing robe. He pulled it on in a hurry, the stitching stretching just slightly too small over his broad frame. He tied the sash, regardless, heedless of the way it hung half open, leaving most of his chest exposed. “Felix,” he hissed, through one side of his mouth. “Cover yourself!” 

“Or,” Felix said, hissing right back at him, “You could tell _them_ to go, take that ridiculous robe off, and get back over here and fuck me, already.” 

Dimitri froze where he was, and fixed him with a wide stare. He was blushing furiously, now, his stubble rough cheeks gone all practically rosy, and not from the cold. “Felix,” he said, breathlessly. 

Felix lifted himself onto his elbows and tilted his head, in question and in invitation, both. 

“Your Majesty?” the woman at the door repeated, sounding somewhat troubled, now. “Is everything all right?” 

“Just a moment,” Dimitri called back at her. It was gratifying, the way his eyes roved over Felix’s body and his voice climbed just slightly too high. 

“It’s my birthday, after all,” Felix said, reasonably, arching his eyebrows. 

“Yes…” Dimitri agreed, and then he shook his head and swallowed, the apple of his throat bobbing up and down. “I mean, no! I mean -- hold on. Here. You’ll see.” He bent and grabbed for the discarded blankets, and then he tossed them up over Felix in a bundle, like the whole mass of it all weighed nothing at all. Felix grunted at the impact, and then made another, more deliberately displeased sound. Dimitri was going to open the damned door. Unbelievable. 

The graceless, thankless boar went to do exactly that, and Felix grumbled under his breath, shaking out the blankets and covering himself with them again, grateful at least to be out of the cold. 

“Yes, I -- thank you for waiting,” Dimitri said, unlatching the bolt and opening the door. He looked ridiculous, really, wearing that robe. It practically tried to climb its way back down his shoulders. Felix crossed his arms beneath the blankets and watched, equal parts amused and annoyed, half hard already simply from the way Dimitri had _looked_ at him. Goddess above.

“Of course, your Majesty,” that same feminine voice replied. Felix saw a mass of dark hair dip as the girl presumably curtsied in place. “I hope it’s not too soon? I read the instructions so many times, I had them memorized,” she confided. “A quarter of an hour past first light…” 

“What’s all this about, now?” Felix complained. “Written instructions? Dimitri. What did you ask for?” 

But in truth, he thought he knew. With the door open, the smells that wafted in from the hall were delicious enough to give even his other, equally pressing appetites some pause. 

“Breakfast,” Dimitri said, confirming it. He took a step back, gesturing the kitchen girl in. 

And in she came, sweeping through behind a tea cart so comically overladen with food, Felix could not help but give a sharp, incredulous laugh. Their server seemed to agree, because she lifted her chin and met his gaze and grinned at him, bold as few people ever brought themselves to be in direct evidence of the sort of relationship the King of United Fodlan and his trusted right hand actually had. 

Dimitri closed the door, behind her. 

“His Majesty was very specific,” she said, and Felix noticed the way she waited until it was closed to speak to him. “There’s cured ham and fried sausages,” she said, lifting lids as she spoke, letting more of those delicious smells into the room. Felix’s stomach made a piteous sound, but politely, she did not so much as acknowledge it. “Eggs fried with maple bacon, and a bit of smoked whitefish, from the north.” She tapped the steaming kettle atop the tray. “Four spice blend. Fresh cream in the carafe. Didn’t bother with the sugar.” She glanced at Dimitri, and smiled. “But I figure you’ll be all right.” 

“Thank you,” Dimitri said, and Felix honestly could not tell whether he did not catch the insinuation, or simply chose to ignore it. “It smells heavenly.” 

The girl nodded. “Fresh onions and peppers with the eggs,” she said. “Salt and black pepper in the grinder, there. Grated cheddar under that lid, there -- extra sharp.” She wheeled the cart before the bed and bent to retrieve a stack of porcelain plates from beneath. “Shall I serve your Majesty, your Grace, or do you prefer to take your meal in privacy?” 

That she could even ask the question with a straight face spoke volumes of her capacity for discretion, Felix thought. 

Dimitri did not fare nearly so well. 

“Ah,” he exclaimed, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to reassure her. “No, no, please. I’ll see to it from here. Ah, that is -- we would prefer…” 

“Privacy it is,” she said, nodding. She curtsied again, every movement perfectly measured and proper. “Very well. Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“No,” Dimitri said, more firmly, this time. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. Please deliver my highest regard to the rest of the staff.” 

The server’s lips twitched up into an amused little smirk. “I’ll tell cook you tasted it first, of course,” she said, with a considerably lazier little half bow. 

“Of course,” Felix agreed. “Now get out.” 

“ _Felix,_ ” Dimitri protested, but the girl only grinned at him, fierce and bright -- rather exactly the way Felix had thought she might. She nodded, corkscrews bouncing, and flounced off for the door, her plain kitchen skirts snapping behind her. For a moment, Felix thought she’d depart without another word, but of course, she couldn’t help but pause with one hand on the latch. She glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was softer, now, but devious still, and she held Felix’s gaze steadily when she spoke. 

“Happy birthday, your Grace,” she said. “I hope it’s a particularly memorable one, for you.” 

And she walked out, the door clicking firmly shut behind her. 

Dimitri blew out a long, unsteady breath. 

Felix covered his face, and laughed into his hands. Memorable. Sure. It already was. 

The clinking of porcelain brought him back to himself. He dropped his hands and watched silently as Dimitri moved with exaggerated care to pour two cups of steaming tea, and then carried them over to the bedside. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he seated himself gingerly, there, something both amused and apologetic in his gaze. He offered one of the cups, and Felix sighed at him, rolled his eyes, and took it. 

“You need a wife,” he said, not for the first time. 

Dimitri gave him a mild look, and sipped at his tea. Felix inhaled deeply over his own cup. He enjoyed the smell of it near as much as the taste. Maybe more. 

“You think she won’t talk?” Felix went on, when it became clear that Dimitri didn’t intend to respond.

But at that, Dimitri only laughed. “Who could she tell that does not already know?” he wondered aloud. “Felix. Not this, again,” he said, gently. “Not today.”

Felix hesitated… and then shrugged one shoulder, conceding wordlessly. “Well,” he said instead, sipping cautiously at his tea. “It does smell incredible. Are you hungry, your Majesty?” 

“Starving,” Dimitri said. “Though not for anything on the cart… incredible though it may be.” 

Felix swept his eyes up to his face. 

The desire he saw there was more than enough to reignite his own. 

“How about you, your Grace?” Dimitri inquired, softly. “Shall we break our fast, together?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Felix said, and then, carefully, he set the little cup of tea aside, ignoring the way his hands shook as he did so. He took a deep breath. “Assuming you don’t have any more fun little interruptions planned.” 

Dimitri smiled. “All I can promise, I’m afraid, is that I believe we’ve enough time before the next to ensure we are both well satisfied.” 

“It’ll all be cold before I’m through with you,” Felix warned him. 

Dimitri flashed his teeth. “Likewise,” he said, and the tone of his voice, the low volume and the rich timbre -- Felix let out his breath in a noisy huff, and practically threw the blankets back off him, exposing himself anew. 

“Fuck me,” he demanded. 

Dimitri dropped his dainty little teacup. Or, rather, he reached for Felix, opening his hands without thinking, and the cup tumbled away from him to shatter unceremoniously on the stone floor. Dimitri didn’t so much as even glance at the mess. Instead, the mattress creaked and groaned as he threw his bulk atop it, crawling over Felix’s body in a hurry, his dressing robe fluttering open and looking more ridiculous than over, halfway down his shoulders already. Felix laughed at him, even as he reached up to pull it the rest of the way off down the broad expanse of his back. Spicy, herbal scents burst into the air and mingled with the rich smell of cooked meat and fried fat, and when their mouths met in a frenzy of wet, open kisses, he could almost taste it all on Dimitri’s eager, plunging tongue. 

They worked together to remove the dressing robe, and when it was off, Felix tossed it contemptuously aside. “Come on,” he panted. He squirmed down off the pillows to put himself more firmly on his back, and spread his legs shamelessly wide, lifting one to hook around Dimitri’s backside, just over the swell of his ass. “Just like last night,” he suggested. “Fast and hard.” 

“Let me spoil you,” Dimitri said into his mouth, pleading. “Ah, Felix… let me use the time we have, won’t you?” He kissed him again, long and deep and thorough, his tongue flicking against Felix’s, licking behind his teeth, teasing the roof of his mouth. He felt Dimitri’s cock, hot and heavy already, pressed against his stomach, and the way he could feel every twitch as he thickened and lengthened and grew hard and wanting, for him… it was the answer to fantasies he hadn’t known he even had. He groaned loudly against his lips, rocking himself upward, letting Dimitri’s length slide and press against his body, marveling at the heat of him, the size. 

“Use it to put that beastly thing inside me,” he panted, gazing up at him, brows furrowed.

Dimitri chuckled, low and sweet, redirecting his kisses to the corner of Felix’s mouth, then across his cheek and down the long, sharp line of his jaw. “Patience,” he murmured, pressing his nose into the narrow curve of his neck. One of his hands roamed up over Felix’s stomach, and the other slid rough and familiar into the tangled mess of his hair. His fingers left tingling remnants of sensation in lines over his belly and circles on his chest, and when Dimitri caught one nipple and pinched, hard, Felix let out a gasping little cry. His body tensed and his back arched, and Dimitri laughed with his lips against the thrum of Felix’s rabbit-quick pulse. 

“Please,” Felix gasped, reaching down at last to wrap his fingers reverently around Dimitri’s cock. He was too thick to encircle completely with only one hand, but Felix did his best, squeezing tight and stroking hard, dragging the pad of his thumb hard along the underside and then twisting it over the slick slit at the tip. Dimitri shuddered atop him, his hips bucking forward into Felix’s grip, and he moved his fingers to the other nipple and pinched that one, too, even harder. Felix cried out, letting his head fall back against the insistent tugging of Dimitri’s other hand in his hair. “Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, Dimitri, yes, again, like that.” 

“So desperate for me,” Dimitri murmured, pinching him again, rolling that sensitive nub between thumb and forefinger. Felix nodded, agreeing with him, confessing to him. “So eager to be used so ungently…” Dimitri ducked his head, brushing his lips over Felix’s collar bone and down his chest. It was not a surprise when he latched his lips around one sore, swollen pink nipple, but Felix gasped and cried out his approval all the same, especially when he flicked his tongue across it, and _especially_ when he followed this up with the excruciating drag of his teeth. 

“Yes,” Felix agreed, his voice high and trembling. “Use me. Dimitri. Come on.” He gave Dimitri’s cock an insistent squeeze, enjoying the way he shuddered atop him. “Use me, damn you. More, Dimitri, fuck, more --” 

“Anything you desire,” Dimitri promised him, and just the words, the way he said them, so sweet and low and accommodating and _warning_ , all at once -- Felix flushed somehow even hotter, sweat rolling down his neck and shoulders to soak into the sheets below. 

He sucked in a deep breath, and twisted himself to open the drawer on the bedside table. “This,” he said, his fingers and his voice both equally unsteady as he rummaged blindly within. “Oh, Goddess. Dimitri. You know what I need!” This last came out harsh and accusatory, even as his fingers closed around the bottle he was searching for. He let out a single, relieved grunt of victory, drawing it between them, and then Dimitri’s fingers covered his and took it from him, easy as anything. He lifted it and yanked the stopper out with his teeth -- Felix’s cock _jumped_ , fuck -- and then he poured a generous amount and slicked both his and Felix’s hands with it, their fingers gliding together, wet and slick and faintly herbal scented. 

Incredibly, he then caught Felix’s hand in one of his, and brought it to his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against the shine of his slick, oiled skin. “Felix. How I adore you so…” 

“Show me,” Felix breathed up at him, glaring a challenge. He snatched his hand away and set it to more productive tasks -- such as finding Dimitri’s cock between them, again, and slicking him base to tip. Dimitri groaned and rocked against him, his breaths coming sharp and fast and audible, now. “Touch me,” Felix suggested. “Open me up for you. Dimitri. Please.” 

“Yes, Felix, yes,” Dimitri agreed, his breathing quick and uneven, his one eye glassy and overwhelmed as his glistening, oil-slick fingers plunged down between them, tracing the path of Felix’s thigh down between his legs and then further, slipping between his cheeks. He pressed the pad of one finger against his entrance, and then teased him in short little circles, his breath practically rasping out of him. Felix wiggled down further and lifted his ass invitingly, giving him better access, reverently stroking and teasing him all the while. Dimitri was fully hard for him, now, breathtaking in his beauty, and Felix wanted him inside so fucking badly his body felt practically _hollow_ with the absence of that thick, massive cock stretching him wide, splitting him open. 

“Please,” he gasped again, pleading. 

“Felix,” Dimitri moaned. He pressed into him, sinking one finger inside, and Felix let out a ragged little cry and let his eyes roll back and his hips tilt up, desperate and begging for more. Dimitri obliged him, little by little, rocking his thick, insistent fingers into him one by one until Felix’s hole stretched tight around him, clenching against him in rhythm with Felix’s breathy cries for more. Dimitri knew precisely how to touch him, how to please him, how to curl his fingers deep inside and find that spot within him that made him wild, made him buck and thrash and beg.

He did just that, teasing Felix with his fingers for what felt like hours. Entire eternities passed in a wash of color against the back of his eyelids, and though his mouth was dry and his throat hoarse, Felix could not have possibly stopped Dimitri’s name from falling out of him again and again and _again_ , not for all the world. 

When Dimitri’s fingers finally began to slow and then stilled within him, Felix cracked his eyes cautiously open to find the world trapped behind a bleary wash of tears. He blinked, spilling them down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes, and Dimitri’s face sharpened before him, revealing all the open, overwhelmed admiration in his wide gaze and parted lips. Spots of color sat high on his cheeks, and the _sound_ he made -- practically a growl! Felix moaned for him, wanton and desperate, and clenched himself around his still fingers. 

“Dimitri,” he begged. He could feel his own cock weeping, leaving a sticky trail across his stomach. 

Dimitri brushed the hair from his face -- gently, so gently, and with the hand that _hadn’t_ just been busy playing with his hole, so thoughtful -- and nodded. He repositioned himself over him, eclipsing his body, and guided himself to his hole. 

“Hold tight to the backboard,” he suggested, in that familiar, distracting low rumble that Felix loved so well. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Felix breathed, scrambling in his haste to reach over his head for it. He nodded when he found the edges of it, gripping tightly, eagerly. His heart felt like it might burst from his chest -- or maybe simply roll right out of his open, panting mouth, he wasn’t sure. He felt light headed, dizzy with desire. 

When Dimitri pushed into him, it was all at once and with little warning. He invaded him in one long, excruciatingly exquisite slide, burying himself to the hilt with a shocked, gasping little cry of his own. 

Felix _howled._ He let his back arch up and his hips jerk back, let his body make whatever sounds it wished as Dimitri pulled himself back out to the tip and thrust himself forward again, so hard that it nearly sent him headfirst into the backboard despite the steady grip he had on it, despite his own well known and certainly not insignificant strength. 

Dimitri pushed him forward, grunting his pleasure and his effort with every thrust while Felix gripped the board behind his head with oil-slick and sweating palms and tried his best to clench around his cock in rhythm _and_ hold himself back from being smashed to a broken, bloody pulp. Dimitri used him just the way Felix liked best, hard and fast with no regard for his own comfort, turning him into a vessel for his own pleasure, fit only to be consumed for that higher cause. 

He could never last long when Dimitri fucked him so well. 

He cried his pleasure out in ragged gasps, tearing from his throat, and spilled himself in long ropes over his own chest and stomach, whimpering and begging while fresh tears spilled from the corners of his eyes down into the damp tangle of his hair. Dimitri didn’t stop; he knew by now not to, to keep his brutal pace as long as he required to follow Felix over into ecstasy. 

It was impossible to tell how long it took. By the time Dimitri shuddered atop him and went still, Felix was whimpering and crying and shaking like a leaf beneath him, all the strength gone out of him, his hands and wrists and forearms bruised against the backboard. Dimitri gasped his name into his ear and ran soothing hands through his hair, down his back, gathering him up into the circle of his arms. 

For awhile, Dimitri simply held him like that, stroking his hair and murmuring his name, telling him how beautiful he was, how incredible, how stunning. 

Slowly, he came back to himself. 

Even slower, he let himself relax forward into Dimitri’s arms, resting his chin atop his shoulder, breaths coming long and slow. All the sweat slicked down his back cooled as it dried, making him shiver. 

“Felix,” Dimitri sighed, kissing his temple. 

“Ridiculous,” Felix muttered, eyes slitted, barely audible. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. Swollen. Perhaps he’d bitten it. Perhaps _Dimitri_ had. The thought made him laugh, shaking against him. He turned his head and nuzzled against his cheek, enjoying the burn of his stubble, there. “Soft hearted sap.” 

“Ah, well. I would much rather that, than a cold, heartless beast,” Dimitri said. 

Felix tried to laugh that off, as well, but it twisted halfway up his throat and became a choked little sob, instead. Dimitri hushed him, gently, his fingers gliding through his hair, his lips brushing over his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. At the last, Felix reciprocated eagerly, and for awhile, they simply set about thoroughly re-exploring each other’s lips and tongues. 

Eventually, Felix’s stomach made that sound, again -- a deep, grinding sort of growl, so loud it practically echoed. 

Laughing, Dimitri pulled back. 

“I’m sure it’s all gone cold, now,” he said, apologetically. “I had imagined us eating first, somehow.” 

“Idiot,” Felix sighed. 

Dimitri nodded, gravely. “Even so, I would be glad to serve us both,” he said. As though he hadn’t already! Felix snorted up at him, and then pushed him gently away, nodding. 

“Fine,” he said. He scooted backward, and then tossed his hair back over his shoulders, giving Dimitri an imperious sort of look. “It’s my birthday, after all,” he said, reasonably. “Serve me.” 

Grinning, Dimitri nodded once, and then reached forward to snatch Felix’s hand up once more, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “It will be my pleasure,” he said, quietly. “My beloved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter: [@landofsmthsmth](https://twitter.com/landofsmthsmth)


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